God Works in Mysterious Ways 2 of 2
by TicTactful
Summary: Part 2 of 2 Rahne and the XMen race to find the new mutant. But can they get there in time? LAST CHAPTER NOW UP.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1 Author's notes: Long delay, as usual. I'm sorry. This time I have an exuse - I had a lot of trouble deciding on an ending, and I tried a couple different ones. Here's the end result. Hope you enjoy. Feedback please! 

God Works in Mysterious Ways, Part 2  
Chapter 1 

  


"Mornin', Jeb." Shuffle, shuffle. "Mornin', Andy." Shuffle, shuffle. Cough. "Mornin' - hey! What the sam hill you doin' here, boy?" 

"Got t'pay the bills somehow, sir." 

"Ah know, Ah know. But - didn't that university up yonder offer ya-" 

"Yes, sir. But, well, the comp'ny don't pay like it used ta, and the funeral and all - Ma's too proud ta take the welfare, ya know, and-" 

"Ah see, boy, Ah see." Cough, cough. Shuffle. "Sure am sorry ta hear it. Yore pa was real proud of ya, son. Damned proud." 

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." 

The lift doors groan shut. The elevator sinks at a sickening pace into total darkness. Then, one, two, four, a dozen small lights flicker into being, grimy fingers of paleness clawing the darkness. Shuffle. Cough. _Ah'm doin' this fer ya, Pa. Damn you ta Hell! No, no, Pa, Ah'm sorry. Ah didn't mean it. Damn the Black Lung ta Hell. It's gonna get me, too, sure as day turns t'night._

The elevator stops. _Ah don't wanta get out. Ah hate it down here. So dusty and dark and_ small. _And the coal gets in ya and through ya and it jest strangles ya from the inside out - but ya knew that, didn'tcha, Pa? Ya didn't want yore boys ta cough their lives out and yore girls ta be miners' widows … Damn you, Pa! Ah coulda been a doctor or - or an enginter! Ah'm only sixteen, Pa, Ah don't wanta die down here!_

"You the new hand?" 

"Yessir. That's me." 

"This here's yore machine, son. Gus Lewis here'll show ya how ta use it proper … Ah'm sorry 'bout yore Pa, boy." 

"Yessir. Thank you, sir." 

_Very dark. Very small. Damned mines. Why'd ya leave me ta this, Pa? No, Pa, Ah'm sorry. Ah shouldn't think like this … What is that sound?_

"CAVE-IN!" 

The timbers growl and grind one against the other. Black dust shakes loose and darkens the air. The pale fingers of light all but disappear as the miners rush toward the lift - toward life. Cough, cough. Shuffle faster. _Oh God - oh God - Ah don't wanta die! Ah've gotta get out - but - _"Mr. Lewis! He's pinned!" 

A slap from the foreman as he pushes past. "Leave him, boy! Git out - now!" 

"Ah - Ah can't -" 

The boy turns back. One shoulder under the beam holding Gus Lewis down - one strong young man's effort and strain and sweat - it is not enough. 

"Can ya help me shift it, Mr. Lewis? Try ta help me move it!" 

"Too late, ya fool boy! Jest like yore pa - more guts'n brains! Ya've killed yoreself too - the roof's comin' down!" 

_Ma - Pa - the young'uns!_ "NO!" 

Terror lights a strange fire in the young man's chest. Adrenaline pounds through him. Both hands lock on Gus Lewis's coat and then- 

-and then they are rocketing through earth and stone, thrown into the air, and dropped, unharmed, into the soft Kentucky soil. The voices of the other miners rise in the distance, calling their names. Gus Lewis sits up, puts a hand to his head. "Good Lord! What in blazes jest happened?" 

"Ah … Ah don't rightly know, sir." _What did Ah do down there? What … what_ am _I?_

  


ELSEWHERE "Damn this equipment. You picking anything up, Joe?" 

"Not yet. You sure this hunk of junk'll work?" 

"The boys from Tech say it will. Whaddaya think, should we call out for Italian or Ch--" 

"Wait! I'm getting something!" 

"Gimme that, I said gimme it!" 

"Getting a reading ... narrowing target area ... U.S.A. ... Kentucky ... hey!" 

"Cameron County ... Pierce-Consolidated Mine #7 ... Hello, Mr. Samuel Guthrie. Hand me the phone, man. Time to call the boss."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Chapter 2 

  


Samuel Guthrie. Sixteen years old; blond, tall, rangy, thin. Slowly he shuffled down the well-beaten trail to the Guthrie property, his tin lunch pail clanking dully at his side. _Only midnight,_ he thought, glancing at the moon. _Pretty good closing time for mah first night on the job. Better not git used ta it … Stop avoidin' it, Sam. Somethin' strange happened down in that mine … What_ are _ya?_

A sharp pain stung at his shoulder. He tried to slap at the unseen wasp, but his hand was suddenly far too heavy to move. He took two more steps, stumbled, and crashed to the ground. 

Through half-closed eyelids, he watched as four men in khaki coveralls emerged from the brush. "Freak," said one disgustedly. Another spat; the gob of saliva dripped from Sam's numb cheek. "Go get him, fellas. We ain't got all day." 

The other three approached. Sam could make out the stylized birds emblazoned across their chests. Were those white marks letters? He couldn't seem to remember. 

Metal coolness closed around his throat, and roughly he was lifted. "Xavier's gonna love this," chortled the first man, and Sam's world melted into darkness and cave-ins. 

  


LATER 

  


Rahne glanced cautiously across the yard. The sprawling cabin looked old and rough, but neatly and lovingly tended. She turned black to Professor Xavier. "Dae A have tae?" 

"Yes, Rahne. It will be better for the boy to hear this from someone his own age. Do not worry - you will do fine." 

"All right. A'm goin', sir." Slowly she stepped out onto the path, then hurried nervously to the door and rapped twice. 

There was a long pause. Then the door opened halfway, and a woman peered out. She had grey-blonde hair and a deeply lined face; the small child in her arms clung to her worn blue sweater. "Yes?" 

"Oh! … A, er, is this where Samuel Guthrie lives?" 

The woman sagged against the door. "Oh, mah God - where is he? The foreman said he'd sent mah boy home two hours ago an' he ain't got here ye - damned mines - his Pa didn't - we didn't - oh God, where is he? Is he hurt real bad?" 

The infant began to squall. Rahne swallowed hard. "Ma'am - A'm sorry - A dinnae know where yer son's at. A'm - ah - a friend. From school. An' A … ah …" 

"Ya heard 'bout the cave-in, then?" The woman smiled tremulously, but tears sprang from the corners of her eyes. "An' ya were worried about Sam. That's good a' ya, girl. Ah'm sorry Ah can't tell ya any good news jest yet. Now yah best git yoreself home; it's late, an' a young'un like you shouldn't be wanderin' around alone." 

"Yes, ma'am. A'll dae tha'. Thank ye. An' A hope - A hope Sam gets home soon." 

"Thank ya, honey. Good night." 

The door closed silently. Rahne stood still for a moment. _Ye're gettin' far tae good at lyin', Rahney lass. But could ye have given tha' poor woman something more tae worry about?_ Then she turned and trotted back to where Xavier, Logan, and Ororo were waiting, and told them what she had learned. 

"Hm," Professor Xavier frowned. "They were faster than I anticipated." 

"They? They who?" Rahne demanded. 

"Assuming that the boy is not injured and lying in a ditch somewhere," Ororo said sharply. 

"Wha' is goin' on? A want tae know!" 

"Or that Maggie and his gang didn't beat us both," put in Logan. 

"Both of _who_? A want tae know wha's goin' on - _now_!" Rahne stamped her foot. "How am A supposed tae help if'n A dinnae know wha' A'm doin'?" 

The three adults stared at her. "Very well," said the Professor quietly after a moment. "Let us return to the Blackbird, and I shall explain on the way. You see, Rahne, I did not want to frighten you over-" 

"Incoming!" bellowed Logan. 

Rahne gasped as a dark shape dropped to the ground in front of her. Four more dim shapes sifted out of the shadows, and one great figure loomed down from the sky, cape billowing. 

"Magneto," whispered Storm in Rahne's ear. "Leader of the Brotherhood." 

"Charles," said the figure. Its voice was low and rumbling like Logan's, but far more elegant. Glove hands raised the helmet from the figure's head, and a tall, silver-haired man stood proudly before them. "I see your motley band had beaten me to the prize. Well, no matter. Hand over the boy and there shall be no trouble tonight." 

Rahne shuddered, but Professor Xavier regarded this newcomer calmly. "Call off your Brotherhood, Magneto. I can do no such thing. The boy is already gone." 

Magneto regarded him imperiously. "Gone, you say? If he is with neither you nor I, then where is he?" 

"I suspect the Friends of Humanity have him." 

"Friends o' Humanity?" Rahne burst out. "Lady Kinross mentioned-" 

"Wolfsbane, please," Professor Xavier raised a hand. "The Friends are our common enemy. If we work together, we stand a chance of freeing the Guthrie boy. Can we allow him to suffer over our differences?" 

Magneto sucked in a sharp breath, then nodded. "Very well, Charles. You shall have my cooperation." 

"Is this wise, sir?" hissed a blue-skinned woman, stepping up beside him. Rahne recognized the voice of Principal Darkholme. 

Magneto shook his head. "Wise? No, probably not. But right, moral, just? Yes. Charles," he turned back to the professor, "is there room for the six of us aboard your Blackbird?" 

Logan growled deep in his throat, but the Professor nodded. "Certainly. This way." His chair hummed ahead into the woods. The four adults followed behind. Lance, Todd, Pietro, and Freddie tagged behind to catch up to Rahne. 

"Been a while, hairball," smirked Freddie, jabbing her in the shoulder with a pudgy finger. 

"Dinnae touch me," she spat, moving past them. 

Todd's long fingers closed around her ankle, nearly tripping her. "This should be _fun_, yo …" 

"Knock it off, guys," Lance commanded. "This is a real mission. There's no time for screwin' around." 

Pietro offered her a hand. "I know we've had some differences …" She glared at him. "Okay, we've treated you rotten. Can we put it behind us - just for tonight, at least? No Brotherhood, or X-Men, just - just-" 

"A new breed of mutants," she finished, and seized his hand. "Tonight, f'r sure. An' we'll see about tomorrow. A'll dae my part, if ye'll dae yers." 

"We will," Lance said firmly. "We do what the boss says." Pietro nodded vigorously; Todd muttered, "yeah"; Freddie grunted his assent. "All right, you new mutants! Let's go!" And the five of them ran off together after the others.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Chapter 3 

  


"If I'm not mistaken," said Professor Xavier to Logan once all were aboard the jet, "the Friends of Humanity have one of their largest membership bases in Washington, D.C. Let us head in that direction." 

Logan grunted and bent over the pilot's console. Xavier turned his chair to the others behind him. "It will take us some time to get there. In the meantime … we adults owe the children an explanation." 

"Agreed," rumbled Magneto. "Will you do the honors, Charles, or shall I?" 

"I shall do my best, if you do not mind." At Magneto's nod, Xavier turned to the students, X-Man and Brotherhood. "The Friends of Humanity, to put it in the simplest terms possible, are a violently anti-mutant organization. They despise and fear mutants, for what we are and for what some of us-" he directed a pointed glance at Magneto "-might become. Their membership grows daily, and includes many powerful people - Senator Kelly; the televangelist Reverend Stryker. There are many like him who feel that mutants are … inherently evil - the devil's creation; many people, like-" 

"Reverend Craig," Rahne whispered, feeling blood drain from her face. Ororo's hand touched her shoulder. 

Xavier bowed his head. "You are correct, Rahne. I had hoped-" He shook himself. "But there are many other members, open or otherwise. I do not wish to frighten you overmuch by naming names … yet I do wish to put some fear into you, all of you, if only to make you cautious of the danger of dealing with this group. I often wonder if there is anything they would not do to achieve their ends. They have become, indeed, a new kind of Ku Kl-" 

"Professor!" shouted Kurt's voice. Most of the Blackbird's passengers jumped. Growling, Logan flipped a switch, and the bright blue face filled the viewscreen. "Professor!" 

"Kurt - what is it? Try to calm down." 

"I am sorry, sir, but I thought - I thought you should see this …" 

Kurt's face disappeared, only to be replaced by the grainy image of a hooded man. "-just a little taste of what's coming down the line for all the freaks," he was saying. "Sunrise is the end of the mutie era and a new beginning - for humanity!" 

The feed cut out and Kurt reappeared. "That vasn't all, he said worriedly. "They had a boy - about our age - in handcuffs, and a collar, and they said the vould kill him at dawn because he is a mutant! I tried to trace the broadcast - it came on all the big T.V. stations - but it is not vorking!" He sounded frustrated nearly to the point of tears; as a very visible mutant he surely sympathized strongly with the other boy's suffering. 

"A collar," said Magneto in a strangled voice. "It sounds as if the Genoshans have increased their imports - legal or otherwise." 

Lance shot Mystique a questioning glance. She said in a low voice, "Genoshan collars are designed to suppress mutants. They inhibit the ability to use one's powers." 

"Precisely," said Xavier. "Thank you, Raven." Mystique looked startled, but nodded. "Logan - will we make Washington by dawn?" 

"With time to spare." 

"Good. Now, if my understanding of the Friends' sense of the dramatic is correct … I think I may have an idea."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Chapter 4 

  


The first swirls of grey were just beginning to lighten the sky when the ten furtive figures crept through the cherry trees surrounding the Jefferson Memorial. In the dim lights of the building, a few people were barely visible, as well as a few dark lumps of what looked like machinery - camera equipment, perhaps? 

The pink blossoms smelled calming and reassuring. Rahne inhaled deeply, then swallowed hard. Those two men down in front - were those guns they held? _Please, God, let me dae this right._

"How … fitting," Magneto said coldly. "Thomas Jefferson wrote the Declaration of Independence, proclaiming Man's rights. Where better to denounce the status of mutants as beings deserving of rights?" 

"Magnus, your sarcasm is of no use. Now - does everyone know their role?" 

There was a chorus of "yes, sirs". 

"Good. Storm?" 

"Of course, Professor." The darkly beautiful woman spread her arms wide, leaning into the breeze that had risen. Slowly a dense fog covered the ground. "I have the watch. May the goddess smile on all of you." 

Mystique stepped smoothly and vanished into the swirling mist. "I too shall be watching. Have no fear." 

Xavier wheeled his chair into the shelter of the trees' branches. "I have … possessed … one of the guards," he said, closing his eyes. "Untrained minds. You will be able to tell which man it is. Good luck, Magnus: you have command now." 

Magneto, Wolverine, Avalanche, Quicksilver, the Blob, Toad, and Wolfsbane stepped into the cloud, each keeping one hand on the person in front to avoid becoming separated. Silently they moved toward the monument. 

"Remember," came Magneto's bass rumble, "you must try not to hurt or kill any of them. At this time, violence on our part will only reinforce their claims. Children - you must try to find the Guthrie boy as quickly as possible. We will hold off the guards. There are the steps. Now - go!" 

The gun leaped from the hands of the nearest guard. Before he could react, the snarling Logan had fallen on him, pummeling him with fists only slightly less damaging than his safely sheathed claws. More guards burst out of the foggy shadows, guns blazing. 

"Stop them! Somebody, stop-!" 

"Kill the boy now!" 

"Are the cameras on? Are we getting this? Damn it!" 

The five teenagers sped, hopped, and ducked around the gunfire, escaping up the stairs and into the marble building.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Chapter 5 

  


Inside the memorial was cool and dark. The shouts from Magneto, Wolverine, the guards, and now Mystique echoed dimly between the white walls as the teenagers fled up the stairs. 

Safely at the top, Pietro cried out and sank to his knees, clutching an arm that spurted scarlet blood. Rahne swallowed a mouthful of bile. "Oh, Saint Andrew, preserve me!" 

Lance, Freddie, and Todd recoiled in horror, but after a moment of helpless floundering, Rahne seized Todd's arm and half-threw him at his injured teammate. "Todd! Wrap your tongue around his shoulder, lad, tight as ye can!" 

"But that's gross …" he whined. 

"If ye dinnae, he'll like as nae bleed tae ruddy death," she snarled. "Rutting well _dae it!_" 

Grumbling, Todd crossed to Pietro, whose face was now roughly the same bluish white color as his hair, and did as he was told. Slowly the gruesome spray of blood dwindled to a trickle. Rahne sighed. "Now we've got tae find the boy before-" 

"How?" Lance interjected. "_Look._" 

Rahne turned. He was right: aside from the small patch of pale light where they stood at the top of the stairs, the monument's interior was impenetrably dark. _O' course - the Friends would o' wanted tae keep their doin's secret._

"Now what?" Freddie demanded. "You wanna make a decision, you glorified terrier?" 

_O' course!_ Rahne transformed abruptly into half-wolf form. _Human mobility - an' now, A can see in the dark!_

The boys jumped back, startled, as she changed, but then Lance's eyes registered his realization. "I get it. Good luck, furball." 

"Thank ye. A'll be back, soon's A can." 

With that, she loped away, sniffing at the misty air. _Tha' way smells right … h'm … wha's this?_

On the far wide of the memorial from the other mutants, she came across a metal box buried in shadows. It was shorter and much wider than a locker, with a few holes cut into one side near the top - the kind of box a large and badly-behaved dog might have to travel in. Rahne lashed her tail. The box smelled of blood, bitter and metallic. _Got tae hurry up, Rahne._

Here - here was a padlock on the side, holding the hinged door shut. Reverting to full wolf, Rahne crushed the lock with a heavy paw; changing back into her half-human form, she swung the door aside, and gasped. 

Two pale blue-grey eyes stared at her out of an ashen face stained with black dust. Livid bruises were beginning to stand out, around both eyes, mottling his entire face; oozing, crusting blood was caked in twin rivulets under his nose, in his dirty blond hair, and on his knuckles. Worst of all was the fact that he was crouched in the far corner of his tiny prison, both hands clutching the metal collar around his neck. Neither of them moved. Then Rahne said hesitantly, "Sam Guthrie?" 

His head moved forward, just a notch, and then he said in a hoarse voice, "Ah want ta get out, now." 

She nodded quickly, tail bobbing, very glad humans, and not wolves, were the only animals with the ability to cry. "H-hold still a second. A will nae hurt ye." For two blinks, she was a full wolf again, crushing the horrible collar in her jaws. She tossed it aside, then reached out a hand to him. "Come on. Let's gae." 

He allowed her to pull him out of the cage. "Oh - you're like me, then. Ya'd better go, or they'll want ta kill ya, too." 

"They? They who?" 

The Guthrie boy shuddered. "Him, for one." 

Rahne spun, stifling a scream. A broad-shouldered man with the letters 'F.o.H' stenciled on his cap had a pistol leveled between her eyes. "Mutie freak," he snarled. 

Rahne felt her heart freeze in her chest, but she lifted her chin. "Gae ahead - kill me," she said calmly. "A'm goin' straight tae heaven, but wi' all yer wicked words an' deeds ye'd best invest in some asbestos underoos." 

"You little smartass-" The trigger cocked - the pistol fired - Rahne flinched, waiting for angelic choirs - 

Nothing happened. 

She opened her eyes. The big F.o.H goon was grappling with Freddie, who had somehow followed the sound of Rahne's voice in the pitch blackness. The goon still had one hand wrapped around his gun, though … 

"Lance!" Rahne screamed. "We could surely dae wi' an earthquake about now!" 

"Coming right up," came the disembodied voice in reply. 

"Hurry - come on-" She tried to drag Guthrie back toward the pale light with her, but he had frozen, staring around in horror at the suddenly trembling walls. 

"Oh, Lord - cave-in-" With a dry sob, the boy tore free from her gasp, and flung himself away. 

Rahne gaped as he exploded forward in a bright flame, only to crash into one of the great marble walls that held up the dome. "Lord have mercy!" She became a wolf in midstride, claws scoring long grooves in the stone floor as she raced to Sam Guthrie. _Hittin' the wall sae fast - he must o' been killed!_

But she skidded to a shocked halt, amazed as the body shuddered and climbed unsteadily to its feet. Pale eyes took in Rahne, then the still-shaking walls. _Oh, nae, ye dinnae._ Barking, Rahne bumped his legs with her head, pushing him to where Todd and Pietro would be waiting. He looked startled, but allowed her to herd him toward the exit. 

The sounds of gunfire still echoed from the outside. Rahne transformed back into her normal self. "Pietro - how are ye, lad?" 

His voice came out in a ragged gasp. "… Fine …" 

Rahne bit her lip. _He looks sae awful … _ His normally quick black eyes were glassy and dull; his breath came in little hisses between clenched teeth. _How are we ever goin' tae get him out o' here?_

Lance and Freddie loped up behind them. "We took care of that hack," Lance announced. "And looks like you got the kid. Now the question is - how do we get out of here?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Chapter 6 

  


"How do we get out of here?" Lance repeated, louder. "Rahne? You're the brains of this operation now that Pietro's out of commission." 

Rahne gnawed on her lip. "Mebbe … mebbe we could gae out an' come back f'r ye with help? If'n we …" The question died in her throat as she met Pietro's eyes. "… if'n we …" She chewed harder, oblivious to the pain, remembering the way he had looked at her the day the Brotherhood had tried to use her as bait against her teammates. _"I'm sorry, Rahne; I didn't know … Rahne, I'm sorry …"_

"Nae," she decided. "We cannae just leave ye. But how tae get ye out without ye comin' tae greater harm … ?" Her eyes fell on Sam Guthrie where he stood to one side, shoulders hunched, eyes on the floor. She leapt at him, seizing him by the collar. "Sam Guthrie! A saw wha' ye did back there - hittin' the wall sae hard, an' nae a mark on ye! Could ye get our friend out o' here with yerself? Please - A'm beggin' ye!" 

His eyes glimmered down at her out of the shadows of their sockets. "Ah could try if that's what ya want," he said uncertainly in his raspy voice. "Ah can't say as Ah'm very good at this business yet …" 

Rahne's eyes welled up. "Oh, thank ye!" She pointed out into the fog. "Our friends are out tha' way. They'll look after ye till we catch up." 

He shook his head violently. "Oh, no. Ah'll never find them in that mess. Ah couldn't fly straight in a million years. Ah'll get lost, probably walk straight into the Potomac - if they don't shoot us first." 

He stank of fear and hurt. Rahne tried not to wrinkle her nose as she looked to Lance and Freddie for help. They only shrugged, worry lining their faces. She stared desperately up at the Guthrie boy, not knowing what more she could possibly say. _Wha' now? God help us!_ She bit deeper into her lip, tasting crimson. 

Without warning, the boy's thin face broke into a crooked smile. "Yah look like my kid sister Paige when ya do that," he said. He dropped to one knee and lifted Pietro, cradling the smaller boy in his arms, then looked over his shoulder at Rahne. "Put yore arms around my neck," he instructed. "This way ya'll be able ta show me where we're goin'." 

"Are ye … are ye sure?" 

"Ah've given a good few piggyback rides in mah time. This ain't so different." 

"Well - all right, then. Lance - Todd - Freddie - be careful." 

"We can take care of ourselves." Lances waved a hand disparagingly, but Rahne could see the concern over his injured friend in his face. 

"Och - the saints keep ye." She wrapped her arms around the tall Southerner's neck, blushing at the idea of being so close to a total stranger - _and one of the masculine persuasion tae boot!_ - while clinging tightly for dear life and praying as hard as she could. 

"Good luck," called Freddie. 

"Thank yeeeee-" Rahne's reply turned into a shriek as she, Sam Guthrie, and Pietro lurched down the stairway and forward in a cloud of flame like a drunken seraphim. For a few dizzying, sickening, thrilling moments, she felt the euphoria of flight. Then the ground soared up towards them, and the Guthrie boy's shoulder dug a long furrow in the dirt before a cherry tree brought their slide to an abrupt halt. 

"Sorry," he coughed, struggling awkwardly to his knees while still holding Pietro. "Ah'm not very good at this yet." 

Rahne helped him up with a hand under his elbow. "Neither am A! Now, let's hurry - the jet's over tha' way." 

They ran forward a few steps - only to collide squarely with a pair of the Friends, carrying very large and unfriendly-looking weaponry. 

"Thought you'd got away, didja?" said the taller one smugly. "Well, looks like we-" 

A savage bellow erupted out of nowhere, and then, unbelievably, Wolverine had thrown himself at the goons. A few sharp swipes of his claws decommissioned their personal rocketry, and a couple of left jabs and a roundhouse kick disposed of the men themselves. 

Wolverine stumped irritably to where the teenagers stood gawking, and hefted Pietro into his own arms. "Whatcha lookin' at? Git the lead out." He loped off into the cover of the darkness, knowing Rahne would follow. 

She did, towing Sam Guthrie along. "Tha's Logan," she explained helpfully. "He's on our side. Well," she considered Danger Room bruises, "mostly, anyhow."


	7. Last Chapter

Chapter 7

  


Rahne pulled Sam's arm harder to make him go faster. "Hurry, now, let's gae before we lose Logan in the-" 

"LOOK OUT!" 

That was Lance's voice, cracking with fear. Rahne had the common sense - and X-Men training - to fling herself to safety behind a tree before looking to see what was wrong. Sam Guthrie, though, stopped to turn and peer quizzically about. Gunshots screamed overhead. Rahne reached out desperately; his ankle was a foot beyond her grasp. _Oh Lord … _ She drew her knees up under her, preparing to jump up and push him to the ground- 

"Gotcha!" A lumpy form shot at Sam from the shadows, tumbling with him onto Rahne. Another dark figure followed close behind, and then a larger. Rahne opened her mouth to scream - then realized that it was Todd, with Lance and Freddie. "Yeow!" 

Todd clutched his hand, and his limpid eyes watered painfully. Two of his fingers were bent at a disturbingly unnatural angle. Rahne winced. "All right, lads, the Blackbird cannae be far. Here we gae, now." 

Again, the five teenagers raced into the night. The furious voices rose to a crescendo behind them, then faded away with distance. The young mutants found the adults waiting at the ramp of the Blackbird, on the verge of turning back to search frantically for their missing charges. Everyone stumbled aboard, and the jet engines sang with relief as the Blackbird sailed away into the pale sunrise. 

  


The trip back to Westchester was quiet. The students sagged in their seats with exhaustion, with Logan's steady hands at the helm, while Storm and Mystique tended the injured boys as best they could. 

Slumped in his seat, Sam watched detachedly. Little things jumped out at him: The pearls of sweat on the white-haired boy's forehead; the slow, calming motions of the foreign girl's hands as she smoothed the silvery hair; the low rumble of conversation from the three adult men at the front of the jet. 

Vaguely Sam wondered what his family was doing at that moment. He hoped Ma wasn't too worried about him. Trying to picture their little house the way it had been when he'd last seen it, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on against his seat. 

  


"Wake up, Sam Guthrie … wake up …" 

He started awake, staring around wildly. "I - Ma? - I …" Slowly his eyes focused. 

The red-haired girl smiled down at him as she put away a thick wad of cotton and a little bottle. "How're ye feelin'? A think the sleep has done ye good, ye dinnae look quite sae pale." 

"Huh?" He was still feeling too dazed to keep up with her accent. He scrubbed a hand over his face to wake himself up, then flinched. "Ow!" 

"Och, it's nothin', A just had tae wash ye up wi' a bit o' peroxide. Ye'd nae want an infection, now would ye?" 

"Ah guess not." He yawned and stretched as much as his battered body would allow. "Where are we?" 

Her smile widened. "_Home._" 

  


Sam bent his neck to limp down the ramp of the black jet. The inside of the hangar was cool and dim, and felt good on his stinging skin. 

The white-haired man pushed past him, the silver-haired boy - Pietro, they had called him? - sleeping in his massive arms. "Charles," said the commanding voice, "my first duty is to my s-" 

The bald man raised a hand. "Your students. Yes, of course. Take Pietro and Todd to where they can be cared for - my own infirmary is open to them." 

The tall, dignified man hesitated for a moment. Fear and pride chased each other across his face. Finally he answered. "Thank you, no, Charles. You have done enough already this night." It was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. With a nod that impersonated a full court bow, he turned and left, the fat boy assisting the thin greenish-skinned one. 

The blue-skinned woman remained, with the tall dark-haired boy at her shoulder. "Well, Xavier," she said in her cool contralto, eyes narrowing, "what about the boy? You outnumber us - do you intend to take him as one of your prizes? Oh, I'm sorry, I meant prize pupils." 

The man she called Xavier regarded her calmly. "I think it would be best to let the boy decide. Mr. Guthrie?" 

"Decide?" Sam backed away nervously, glancing at both of them. "Ah don't understand, sir. Decide what?" 

The girl, beside him, stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Sam Guthrie -we are all mutants, an' sae are ye. Ye need trainin', sae as ye dinnae hurt yerself or someone else." 

"Oh, no, no. The only thing Ah _need_ is ta go home. Mah ma must be worryin' herself near ta death. And b'sides, how's mah family gonna eat if Ah don't …" He swallowed. "If Ah don't go back in the mines ta earn a livin'?" 

"There are plenty of better jobs for a young man your age than coal mining," said Professor Xavier gently. "Those jobs are available here. They will not be in Cameron County. 

The blue-skinned woman cut in, less gently. "Do you want to die young, Samuel Guthrie? Before college, marriage, a family? Do you want to die of Black Lung disease? Or would you prefer a cave-in?" 

"ALL RIGHT!" he screamed. He realized he was shaking violently. "All right …" The girl reached out to touch his arm, but he slapped her hand away. "Ah'll stay …" 

"But who will you stay with?" the woman pressed. "Our Brotherhood of Mutants? Or Xavier's X-Men? Which will it be?" 

Silently Sam looked between the two groups. The X-Men seemed friendly where the Brotherhood was tough, approachable rather than forbidding … but two names kept flashing through his weary brain. _Pietro. Todd. Pietro. Todd …_

Sam lifted his chin. "Ah'll go with the Brotherhood." 

He tried to ignore the hurt on the foreign girl's face as the dark-haired boy clapped him on the shoulder. "Good choice, man. Let's get you home." The blue-skinned woman moved toward the exit, but the boy looked back over his shoulder at the X-Men. "Nice work back there, Sinclair. Maybe we could use you on our side - for real this time." 

She shook her head, but there was a note of wistfulness in her voice. "Nae. A'm … happy here, Lance." 

"Your loss. See you around, kid." Lance and the woman walked Sam out, but a new verse had been added to the grateful chorus in the Kentuckian's head: _Pietro. Todd. Sinclair … _


End file.
